


Floof

by Unforth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bunker Fluff, Castiel (Supernatural) Loves Guinea Pigs, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 14:58:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Tumblr ficlet written to the prompt: How about Cas living in the bunker, being accepted for a Winchester and being with Dean...that's the backstory...He's staying Dean, it's his home...Now as for the plot Cas wants his damn guinea pig already!Written for SPN Fluff Bingo, square filled: Engagement.





	Floof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pandora_DeRomanus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandora_DeRomanus/gifts).



“Our lives are too complicated for pets,” said Cas, deep and solemn, as serious sounding as when he was discussing hunts.

And yet…

“For fuck’s sake, Dean, I can’t even keep a Goddamn cactus alive in the Bunker, there’s no sunlight!” Sam threw up his arms in exasperation.

And yet…

“They’re...impractical.” Cas sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

And yet…

“What, are _you_ going to clean up after it? You can’t even remember to put your socks in the hamper!” Sam scoffed.

And yet…

...Team Free Will needed a mascot.

That was it.

Dean had no other motive.

None at all.

Sam didn’t look wistfully after every single dog he saw.

Cas didn’t insist on stopping at pet stores and playing with whichever fluff balls he could convince the staff to show him.

They didn’t both look so _disappointed_ every time they had to move on, sans pets.

Dean wasn’t doing this for himself.

He was doing it for them.

Okay, _that_ was a lie. As much as Sam deserved a dog, he was right - their lives wouldn’t accommodate one. So, while he thought Sam would like a floof, the gift wasn’t for him, not primarily. Pulling it off had taken a lot of sneaking around, too, ordering the highest rated “habitat” he could find (God fuckin’ _forbid_ he call the damn thing a cage) and sneaking it into the Bunker and getting out to a petstore without them suspecting and coming back with the chubby, hairy thing trying to claw its way from the box, and now he was surrounded by cage - _habitat_ \- litter and food and and a time-delayed food and water dispenser for while they were out on hunts and chew toys and an exercise wheel and the disassembled cage and tan fur stuck out from inside the box and…

...hell. This was real.

And Dean was...surprisingly freaked about it.

He’d actually bought them a damn Guinea pig.

He’d actually bought _Cas_ a damn Guinea pig.

“What’s that?” Sam’s curious voice jolted guilt down Dean’s spine and he jumped in place, seated cross-legged on the floor trying to decrypt the instructions. “Dean…” Curious gave way to judgy and bitchy. “What. is. that.” Fan-fucking-tastic.

“What’s it look like?” grumbled Dean, tossing the instructions aside and lifting up the cage sides. He leaned them against each other and they promptly fell together with a clinking crash.

“Did you get a _chincilla_?”

“I don’t even know what the hell that is! No! I got a Guinea pig.” He tried the sides of the cage again, with the same result.

“Here, let me do that,” sighed Sam. One try and the bastard got the sides to snap together. “Why’d you get a Guinea pig? How are we supposed to take care of it?”

“That’s what this is for.” Dean gestured at the time-release feeder. It was meant for cats, but water was water and food was food and they’d make it work. “As long as we’re not gone more than a week at a time it should be fine.”

“And if we _are_ gone for more than a week?”

“...maybe we shouldn’t do that…” Dean muttered.

“What was that?” asked Sam, socketing the cage walls onto the base.

“Look, Sammy, maybe we should just...like...stop taking longer hunts. Let the Sisters take ‘um. Or send ‘um on to our other contacts.” Dean whooshed out a breath. Sam had the cage in hand - figures Sam of everyone would know what the hell to do with a cage, not that Dean would _ever_ say that joke aloud - so he jammed his hands in his pockets, fingers closing around the box within. He shouldn’t want to settle down. He shouldn’t want to hunt less. He shouldn’t want…but he did. “Ain’t we done enough? So...what if we...just...don’t leave for that long? Take close stuff, do what we can, and fuck the rest?”

Sam dropped the top of the cage into place and turned to Dean, eyes lowered, lips in a thin line. _He’s upset, he’s pissed, he disagrees, he_ \-- “Wow, Dean.”

And he didn’t say anything else.

Dean’s fist clenched around the velvety box.

“The fuck that’s supposed to mean?”

“...just...wow. Come on, let’s get this set up for Cas and get this little guy out of his box.”

“S’not for Cas,” Dean lied. Sam quirked an eyebrow at him. “And s’not a boy. They’ve got these huge…” He made a suggestive gesture. “...ya know…”

“Testicles?” said Sam dryly.

“They look fricken ridiculous.”

“...that’s fair. How’d you want this to go?”

Leaving the box where it was, hidden, Dean took up the bag of litter and spread it over the bottom of the cage. Sam unpacked the toys. Together, they assembled everything, and when it was set, they put the entire box in the cage...habitat...opened it, and left the room so the unnamed Guinea pig could get comfortable alone.

“Lunch?” Sam suggested. Dean nodded. He’d had a plan, but it seemed stupid now.

The whole thing was stupid.

Okay. Not the Guinea pig. That would make Cas happy, and that was smart.

But all the rest?

Why should anyone want to stay with Dean at the Bunker?

Especially Sam and Cas?

With the cage stowed in his room, the box secreted in his pocket, Sam taking care of food, Dean flip-flopped in his head - ask him, don’t ask him, ask him, don’t ask him…

“Do it, Dean,” Sam interrupted.

“Uhhh…”

“There’s a jewelry box in your pocket.”

“No there’s--”

“Do it.”

Appetite gone, Dean nodded.

He could do this.

Returning to his room, he pulled the box out and opened it. Within was a simple gold band and a length of ribbon. The Guinea pig was curled up asleep in a nest she had made of the litter, peaceful and apparently content. Dean hated to disturb her, but…

He threaded the ribbon through the ring, opened the habitat door, and reached within.

“Hey, little miss,” he muttered. She didn’t react, didn’t open her eyes, and Dean felt a spasm of alarm until he confirmed she was breathing. Just what he needed, to kill the Goddamn thing in the first ten minutes.

_Leaving the pet store, traveling here, waiting in the box...musta been an ordeal...I should leave her alone...but let’s be real, if I wait, I’m gonna chicken out._

Murmuring soothing apologies, Dean threaded the ribbon around her chubby, thick neck, tied it loosely, and withdrew his hands. She shifted, rolled over, opened a single eye to watch warily, and settled back down as he closed the gate.

Whelp, it was done.

Now he just had to wait for Cas to get back.

Tension made a knot in Dean’s chest but he forced himself to a semblance of normal behavior for the rest of the day. He researched for cases. He networked with other hunters. He read a book. He watched the newest episode of Dr. Sexy. Cas was driving back from a salt and burn,should be back around dinner time…

...the hours ticked endlessly by…

...and he awoke with a start.

There was a blanket over him.

There hadn’t been a blanket when he’d dozed off on the couch.

“Sam?” he called, throat dry, but there was no answer. Still sleepy, he tottered to his feet and meandered toward his room. He needed a drink - water, please and thank you - and to use the bathroom, and--

The door to his room was open.

A trenchcoat was thrown negligently on his bed.

And Cas was squatting beside the Guinea pig’s cage.

Aw hell.

Dean coughed intentionally to get Cas’ attention…

“Dean!”

...but it turned into a real cough because of how dry his throat was. Cas was at his side in an instant, patting his back, holding up the cup of water Dean kept on his nightstand. Dean managed a sip or two and finally stopped coughing and Cas was _glowing_ and did that mean no? Did that mean yes? The tension would fucking _kill him_ and he spluttered on another cough when he tried to ask.

“Good?” he managed.

“Fantastic,” Cas replied warmly. “I love it.”

That...that had to mean yes, didn’t it?

“Only one question.”

“Anything, Cas. Seriously.” _Anything for you, Cas._

“What’s she eating?”

Dean blinked.

Dean looked down at the Guinea pig.

She looked extremely content.

The ribbon was in bits, tatters of pink caught in her sharp chewing teeth.

The ring was nowhere to be seen.

“Aw, hell,” Dean groaned.

“Is everything alright?”

There was no possible fucking way Dean could answer that question.

And if the Guinea pig had _eaten the fuckin’ ring_ …

Light sparkled gold off something amidst the habitat litter and Dean let out an explosive, relieved breath.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas sounded genuinely concerned now, but Dean couldn’t answer. He felt weak with nerves, weak with worry, and he gestured wordlessly at the cage. “It’s a very nice Guinea pig…” Dean shook his head.

“Just look,” he croaked.

He couldn’t watch.

He turned away.

There were rustles, the chitter of the Guinea pig, the clink of the cage bars, and…

Arms encircled Dean’s waist and Cas crowded against his back, hot and solid and reassuring.

“Did you...is this supposed to be…”

“Do you like the Guinea pig?” Dean asked.

There was a long pause. A hand slid beneath Dean’s shirt, pressed against his belly, and he felt the distinct coolness of metal.

Cas had the ring on.

“Yes,” breathed Cas in his ear. “I like...her...very much. I love...her.  I think I’ll name her...Deanna.”

Relief made him limp.

“Yeah...good...awesome...I’m pretty fond of...her...too…”

“Well then. I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

“Always, Cas. Always.” There were so many things Dean couldn’t say, so many words that got stuck in his head, but _always_ was easy, and _forever_ belonged to Castiel and no one else.

“Always, Dean,” Cas intoned solemn agreement.

“I can’t believe you proposed with a fricken Guinea pig,” Sam interjected, standing by the door.

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“Yes, please ‘shut up,’ Sam.”

“Fiiiine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr at [unforth-ninawaters.](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com)


End file.
